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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186591">Rose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisforoblivion/pseuds/oisforoblivion'>oisforoblivion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Rose - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisforoblivion/pseuds/oisforoblivion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanahaki Disease: A fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal but when the infection is removed, the victim’s romantic feelings for their love also disappear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, andreil - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Andrew didn’t know when it started.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Was it the day they stepped into the field together, or was it the day he escaped them, and hitchhiked back to Palmetto like the disaster he was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Was it the first day, after the salute? The swing? Or even… the last time he saw his face, eyes knitted with determination as he slipped Andrew’s hand under his shirt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“These are not the ouches of a person on the run.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t know.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He just knew when he dreaded it, and when he realized.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The rehab wasn’t a joyful experience.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All it brought was new memories that Andrew could not forget until the day he died, a new promise to kill. He wasn’t a faithful person, not really. But on the rare occasions, when he wished, <em>fucking pleaded</em>, to taste the bliss of forgetting. It would unsurprisingly disappoint. Asking had never gained him anything.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>However, recently a new prayer has been echoing in the corner of his mind, the words getting heavier each day with the seed it gruesomely carried to his heart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>An incurable disease.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>No</em>, he woud insist.<em> I hate him.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yet, he desperately loved him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And Andrew knew the exact moment the roots to irreversibly spread around his heart, into his lungs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was injured. The clean looking bandages showing on the edge of his sleeves, his stupidly bright Palmetto State Foxes sweatshirt covering bruises and cuts undoubtedly was there, his dark brown curls replaced by auburn ones, hanging against his lowered face to partially hide more bruises and another bandage on his left cheek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neil was looking at him. Their eyes connected for a split second, the emotions he couldn’t feel before exploding with a floral scent into every piece of him, leaving him drenched in a sweet poison that already killed a little piece of him. He averted his gaze.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He suppressed a cough.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You are a pipe dream,” he told Neil. The cigarette trembling in his hand not the reason for his short breath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They kissed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That night was the first time he saw the petals.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When the cough started, he feared he wouldn’t make it to his room.  They slipped through his mouth, one by one, gently swinging through the air, only to be flushed down the toilet breathlessly, surfacing whichever damned emotion left in him as tear drops followed the petals down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was rose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Red. Red as the blood of deaths he promised.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The deadliest, cheesiest fucking flower that could ever be, reminding Andrew how much of a joke he was. How hopeless he is. How desperately doomed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neil didn’t love him. He didn’t.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The root was still there, not letting him forget it’s presence for a single second and with every single kiss they had, every breath they shared between open mouths, the rose grew and grew. Andrew had to put an end to it if he wanted to live any longer, but just like a moth drawn to flame, he was drawn to Neil’s lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was poetic, he admitted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe that was the only proper end for Andrew, after all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you,” Neil said that day. “You were amazing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes creased on their ends, his lips curled in something besides sarcasm. His eyes seemed to flicker towards a security guard before the Neil he knew stared back at them in a mix of calm, apathy, and challenge. This wasn’t right.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And it wasn’t.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was gone. Gone, gone<em>, gone…</em> <em>GONEGONEGONE-</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then he was back…</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Oh god, <em>back</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never,” he promised. “They’ll never take you from me again.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That, as long as he lived.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His fingertips burned to the touch on Neil’s cheeks, his eyes eating up every shadow and blister of light across Neil’s face. He held him when he needed hold, he kissed him when he dared kiss, and he touched him to a word spelled out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s always a yes with you,” he whispered to the world.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Andrew didn’t believe it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A white rose petal.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Andrew believed it less.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Neil wrenched down before him, both hands covering his mouth as he coughed to the inch of his life, petals escaping through his fingers and elegantly piling between them. Neil wiped the sweat off his forehead, the black bags under his eyes never clearer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry,” he said, real expression hardly hidden beneath a strained sarcastic smile. “I failed you. It should’ve never been like this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No it shouldn’t have.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But they were both dumbasses.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The kiss ripped the root out with such force that he didn’t have time to think he could <em>breathe</em> before he couldn’t again. Their mouths, their noses, their hands inhaled each other with such passion, there was no time for air. Neil laughed. Andrew smiled. They both cried as they held on for dear life, so close they couldn’t move no more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When people asked why they smelled like rose, Neil shrugged and Andrew stared. A single rose had now replaced the petal pile, red and white embracing each other in a mosaic gradient.</p>
</div>
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